


Nour Hayati

by MadameNoire



Series: Omega Jason Week [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alpha Damian Wayne, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Coming of Age, Gen, M/M, Male Lactation, Non-sexual dub-con, OJTW2020, Omega Jason Todd, Omega Jason Todd Week, Omega Jason Todd Week 2020, Platonic Lactation, Pre-Relationship, Sort Of, for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23521669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameNoire/pseuds/MadameNoire
Summary: Damian goes to Gotham to find a way to tell his father he's his son, but life's unexpected turns lead him to the right place, at the right time.[Damian "finds" Jason after his resurrection, and it spyrals from there]
Relationships: Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Series: Omega Jason Week [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692598
Comments: 8
Kudos: 300
Collections: omega Jason Todd week 2020





	Nour Hayati

**Author's Note:**

> This is my enter to Day One of Omega Jason Todd Week: Lactation/breastfeeding

It was destiny, Damian knew, that he was the one to find him.

He'd been in Gotham for a few hours, against the wishes of his mother, to observe his father. Word had spread around the League that the Batman had lost sight of his mission, too caught in his mourning for the death of his second ward. The boy he himself had chosen to be his new sidekick. The boy he had chosen to be his son.

Rage had filled Damian once mother told him, once he was informed of the adoption. Whenever he saw a picture of them both together, smiling happily in each other's arms, cheering excitedly at a baseball game, cheeks stained with sauce and crusts. Whenever his father talked to a reported about how brilliant this boy was, how smart, how cunning. Whenever someone comented on the rumors of Bruce Wayne's will being changed so that his knew ward would inherit Wayne Enterprices, as he was the only one with plans of attending college, with the oldest chosing to be a policeman in another city.

But most of all, whenever someone called that boy his son. That street rat whose only legacy was the crime and addictions he was born to. That unpresented, worthless pup that had been stupid enough to try to steal from the Batman. Just an ignorant, unpresented child, nothing compared to Damian.

Then the child died, and Damian couldn't help the feeling of guilt that crept into his chest. At his eighteen years he was perfectly capable of admiting he was just a child, when it came to his father. Just a child sick and tired of seeing his father having to settle for foundlings, traumaticed orphans to fill the place that was Damian's, that should be his and his alone, but that, thanks to his mother's schemes, he had been forced to share with other two pups, before even having the chance to prove himself to his father.

Before his father was informed about his existence.

And now, his youngest pup, the one that made him laugh under the cowl, was gone. And Damian knew, that scar would make it even more difficult for his father to accept Damian's existence. He just hoped his mother wouldn't get too hurt once his father realized the truth of Damian's conception.

That was what had stopped her from going to Gotham and tell his father the truth, that he had a son of his own flesh and blood, so he didn't need to keep on looking for street orphans to adopt. The fear of being despised, hated for her actions, was what kept Damian's mother from saving his father from the dark hole he'd been falling since the death of his ward.

But that was going to change, tonight.

Gathering the few belongings he carried with him, Damian left the small room he'd been staying at since he came to spy on his father, two nights ago. He'd made up his mind. He couldn't allow his father to act in such a reckless manner, jumping head first in the middle of a crossfire with nothing but his armor to keep the bullets from impacting against his body. Engaging himself into fights against no less than five opponents with his fists and training as his only weapon, refusing to pull any of his inventive gadgets from his suit.

He'd heard Nightwing say, when he finally got to hack their communication, that Batman was trying to kill himself out of grief, but Damian knew better. It was Bruce Wayne, the man from the pictures and interviews, the proud father of three two, head of the pack and the father who had lost his child, the one trying to kill himself. He was the one trying to find an outlet from his pain, to make the hurt stop. And wihile doing that, he was only pulling the Batman with him, both of them falling into a darkness that threatened to be endless.

That was why Damian had decided to come ti Gotham. Because Grandfather didn't want to have even more strains in his relationship with the only man in the world that, despite not bearing his blood, was a worthy heir for his legacy. Because mother didn't want her beloved, the only person in the world worthy of her love, to despise her as much as she despised herself. Because they only thought about the man with the cowl, but they didn't seem to care for the man that made the cowl. And that man was Damian's father.

At first, Damian's plan was to wait for his father by his car, parked at the same place since he came back from Ethiopia. Now, though, walking through dirty streets with a shovel in his hands and an adress set on his mind, he had his mission clear.

He had made sure his father had concluded his patrol before heading out, and even as he walked, he made a point to avoid any security camera spread across the city. Normal people noticing wasn't a problem, as he doubted they'd find a teenage boy dressed completly in black while carrying a shovel around any more weird than a crazy clown terrorizing them every other week.

Small raindrops had started to stain the stone entrance of the Gotham Memorial, and soon the soft rain became a shower. Still, it didn't stop him from noticing he had company.

 _"I told you I would do this alone."_ he said as he reached his destination.

Three figures came to kneel behind him. They were the guards his grandfather had asigned to escort him on what he thought was just a child curious to know about his father.

 _"Forgive us, my lord,"_ one of them, the female one, said. _"We just don't think your grandfather would aprove of your actions."_

 _"It is not your place to question my desitions,"_ Damian then turned to look at them, the three still with their heads down, their clothed legs getting muddier with the wet dirt of the ground. "I will kill you if you dare to speak again."

The three nodded, and Damian returned to his quest. He didn't have much time, after all. 

**'Jason Todd - Rest In Peace'**

Curious, Damian thought. He knew his father had cared for this child, cherished him as his most treasured possession. Loved him like a father would love his pup, and more. But this, this was just so impersonal, so lacking of anything that proved that the pup buried underneath had been so adored, if not by his blood parents, by the richest man of this goddamn city.

Maybe his father hadn't wanted anything to do with the funeral arrangements of his pup. Maybe he'd been too caught on his mourning to notice what seemed to be such a shallow detail. After all, western people didn't hold the same views towards the afterlife as they did where Damian came from.

Not that the League did, either.

So Damian took the shovel into his hands, but had to stop himself before he could start to dig.

Maybe he didn't feel anything at the thought of exhuming the mortal remains of a young pup, but his father most certainly would.

He didn't have any doubt on what was he going to do, or if he was going to do it. He had already made up his mind. The question was, would his father aprove of this? Would Bruce Wayne aprove of his dead child's body being taken out if its grave and to the other side of the world? Would the Batman aprove of this kind of vandalism?

Would he appreciate the end, even if he didn't aprove of the means?

Moments later, though, Damian would realize that those questions lacked of purpose, when the dirt on top of the grave started to move.

'The rain,' Damian thought, fingers holding tight onto the shovel. Seconds later, a hand came out of the ground.

A hand.

The darkness was briefly interrupted by a lightning, and seconds later, when the thunder reached Damian's ears.

_A hand!_

Letting go of the shovel, Damian's hands flew to the his hip and thigh, retrieving daggers from hidden pockets, and adopted an attack position. Behind him, he knew, the assassins did the same. 

In front of him, bloody fingers dug into the dirt, trying with apparent desperation to hold onto solid ground. the mud around it started to give in, making it easier for the second hand to appear. Once both of them where out, arms followed, covered by dirty dark clothes.

'The suit' Damian thought. A suit his father's butler had retrieved from his homeland for the pup to wear at his graduation, but that had arrived just in time to be the kid's graveclothes.

An unknown force compelled Damian to step forward, and as another lightning illuminated scene, Damian fell to his knees and sank his arms into the doft ground, until his hands got a grip of an struggling body.

"-ruce! B-Bruce!"

Loud cries for his- for Damian's father reached his ears as he pulled what he hoped with all his heart was the pup, the child the grave belonged to, and not some devilish creature usurping his corpse.

"Stop moving," Damian grunted as the head finally came out, all dark, dirty curls drifting rainwater and blood, "I have you."

The boy choked as Damian placed his hands under his armpits and pulled -with a rather forcefull movement- his body completely out of its prison, letting go almost a second later.

Damian stared, with his heart thudering against his ears, at the small, broken body before him. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed the assassins standing still, not daring to look away from the writhing figure. As the boy managed to even his breath, he started, once again, to call for his Damian's father, voice harsh and broken but somewhat high, like one would expect from an unpresented pup.

As Damian deemed that, at the very least, the apparently resurrected pup wasn't going to lash out to him or his companions, he knelt besides him, and pondered wether he should insert his dagger in the kid's chest before the reason of his resurrection took over, or if he should tuck the small body in his arms, cover him from the rain, and try to make him calm down.

"B-Bruce?"

And once again, the choice was taken from Damian's hands, as he looked down to the whimpering child.

Damian remembered looking at a picture of the first Robin, years ago, and comparing the boy's eyes to the topaz that adorned a pair of his mother's most cherished earrings -a gift from his father from the days where they still could forget, if only briefly, about the ocean of morals that stood between them-, as clear as the sky on a summer day.

But as pretty as they were, not even them had managed to steal a gasp from an al Ghul's lips, the way this pup's deep blue just had.

If Grayson's eyes resembled a topaz, Todd's were nothing if not a pair of sapphires.

Deep blue, shining with a liquid effect thanks to both the tears on them and the rain that purred all over him. Red-rimmed and framed with a set of thick, curvy eyebrows, Damian found himself enraptured by the tragic beauty of them.

But it was the fire that shone there, buried under terror and pain and sadness, that made Damian stop thinking -or, more like, standing there, _staring_ -, and start to act.

It was on the evidence of the life sparkling in them, that Damian had dropped his daggers and took off his coat, draping it around the boy's delicate body, making it look even smaller under the fine fabric.

"Bruh- Bruce."

"Hush," Damian mumbled, unsure on what to do. For all of grandfather's training of how to control himself, how to calm himself down on stressful situations, no one has ever bothered to teach Damian how to deal with someone else's stress.

Then again, he was an al Ghul. He wasn't expected to take care of anyone but himelf, and, once such a time came, for his mate and heirs.

And the only experience he had...

"God be with you, my age, my heart. My healing balm. The most beutiful soul under the lord's light. You are the life of my life. No jewel is as beautiful as you. I shall forever be by your side. Light of my life. _Nour hayati_."

Rubbing his cheeks over the boy's curls, letting him tuck his face against his neck, holding him as tightly as his broken body allowed him, Damian mused a song, a lullaby he once heard a very unlikely character sing, in the middle of the battlefield. It had stunned him, at first, and more so once the person, the alpha woman, had told him about her pup, her _kit_ , the son she had loved more than her life, but she had to leave behind, along with her mate, so that they could be free of her past and mistakes. The song was the one she had sung to him the last night she saw him, a newborn baby that hadn't even opened his eyes for the first time.

It wasn't a very fitting song, but it was the only one Damian knew that was soft and soothing enough to calm the boy that was - _oh_ \- crying in his arms. 

The crying started to fade soon enough for Damian to keep going, even if he had been repeating the same nine or ten sentences time and time again. He wanted to stand up, to carry the boy to his father's home, or to his hotel's room, or even just under the nearest tree, just to stop the fading rain from falling all over the boy's frame, no matter how much Damian's bigger body tried to shield him against it.

The rain settled for a dizzle, which allowed Damian to hear high-pitched whine, followed almost immediatly by a hand making its way to Damian's back and head, delicate fingers trying and failing to grasp his short strands of hair, as the palm pulled his head downwards.

Damian cupped the boy's face, shock marring his features as he took on flushed cheeks and veiled eyes, pink lips parted slightly as more whimpers passed through them. 

_'Fever'_ he thought as he stood up and started to walk as fast as he could with the boy still in his arms towards the cemetery's unguarded entrance, only stopping to instruct one of his companions to stay behind and fix the grave, other one to run ahead and ensure that their way to the hotel was clear, and the last one to take to the rooftops to ensure they wouldn't be followed.

* * *

Turns out, it wasn't fever, and the boy wasn't an unpresented pup anymore.

With the young boy, the _omega_ , seated on the bathtub of Damian's hotel room, whimpering and moaning and trying to get a grip on Damian's head, the young alpha was just grateful that presentation didn't involve any kind of sexual need, because, again, grandfather's training fell short to some likely situations, like resisting an omega-in-heat's pheromones. Of course, he wouldn't just take the child then and there and shield behind the poor excuse of his instincts taking over him, but he would be dealing with a more uncomfortable situation right now.

With remarkable patience and a lot of effort, he had managed to undress the omega enough to be able to clean his most severe wounds, before having to tend to them. He had to do it alone, because there was no way on earth he was letting anyone -and he couldn't stress that enough, _anyone_ \- to see his father's omega son in such a state of vulnerability.

Apparently, the major damage was on his knuckles wounded and bleeding, but fortunately none of his fingers were broken. There were all of the scars listed on his father's files before Ethiopia, and -and Damian was strangely relieved and _grateful_ for it- all of the wounds listed on the autopsy seemed healed, some more than others.

The only thing that was out of place was the dizzy- no, the _absent_ look in the boy's eyes. His eyes were still red from crying, and were set on Damian's general direction as his hands tried to pull the alpha to him, but they weren't focused, they weren't looking at Damian.

That, and the thin threads of white liquid leaking from his pink, small, perky nipples, rolling down his belly untill they fell into the water.

Damian licked his lips. It was hard enough to clean the omega like this, knowing that it was his father who ought to be here, taking care of the omega, pampering him and making sure he was comfortably tucked into the pack's nest, feeling safe enough to give his milk to his pack members. To his pack alpha and alpha brother. _Not to Damian_.

But Damian also knew that, the more Jason kept his milk inside him, the more someone delayed on put their mouth around the tip of his tits and start to suck, the more painful his presentation was going to be for the young omega. The more evident a rejection was going to be. 

So, Damian would be incurring into a high disrespect towards Jason's pack alpha if he dared to take his milk, his first milk. But if he didn't, if he made the one-hour trip to his father's manor and waited who knows how long for his father to make his tests to prove this was really his child-

It would cause a major emotional trauma on the omega. One there was no return from. Rejecting milk wasn't an easy issue to get over.

So Damian knew he had to do. It was clear once he took the omega out of the bathtub, gathering into his arms, carrying him to the king-size bed.

First, he dried him with the softest towel the hotel could provide him. The healed his wounded knuckles the best he could with the omega's insistent movements, and dressed him on Damian's own night suit, leaving the top unbuttoned. Then, he gathered the blankets one of his servants had provided him with, on the floor, and proceeded to make a nest -or try to, at least-, placing his own clothes on top, so at least the omega wouldn't lash out at the scentlessness of the unfamiliar nest.

"Hush now," he murmured as he gathered the boy in his arms, a whimper being his annoyed answer, "I know, I know."

With gentleness he didn't knew himself capable of, he placed the smaller frame down the nest, and cupped the omega's face with one hand, taking one last look at those lovely sapphires, before his hand descended, his fingertips caressing the skin of his neck and chest, opening the shirt even further.

"P-plea- please..." the omega whimpered, voice hoarse from -Damian suspected- lack of use.

Damian brushed his cheek against the boy's, against Jason's, and looked him once more in the eyes.

"Forgive me, _Nour Hayati_."

Damian's lips sealed around the tip, denying both himself and Jason any unnecessary gesture, and started to suck. He didn't deserve to try and make it especial to Jason. If he did, it would only bring pain to him, once he restored Jason's consiousness. He wasn't going to make this pleasant to himself, only for it to be taken from him once the omega was back when he belonged, with the pack that Damian, more now than ever, knew he couldn't belong to.

So he sucked and sucked, gently lapping at the nipple every couple of minutes in some sort of appology. Soon enough the milk stopped to come out. Damian let himself press a kiss against the tender tip before moving to the other one, this time taking a little more of time to let this memory burn into his mind. It was the first time he'd done something like this, and then and there, Damian swore to himself, it was going to be the last. If Jason couldn't give his first milk to the people he had wanted to, then Damian didn't deserve to get what he wanted either.

Jason was purring softly by the time he was finished, curled around Damian as he slept. As if Damian was someone he could trust with his life. As if Damian was in any way worthy of that trust.

But Damian was a weak man, weak to the tenderness of the omega's touch. Weak to the affection he had been denied all his life. He couldn't even remember being able to curl against his mother's side, not even one of his nurse's, because his grandfather hadn't wanted him to grow weak, attached.

So he decided to lay there, hug the omega back, and let himself fall into the sleep the milk and the purr and the smell were inviting him to.

Tomorrow, he was going to bring _him_ to father. Tonight, he would allow himself to keep _him_.

* * *

Of course, nothing seemed to go as planned as of late.

**'Robin flies again'**

Damian growled as he read the article, stating that Robin had been sighted once again flying behind Batman. He knew of Tim Drake's crusade to "save" his father, but never it occurred to him that what the boy was aiming at wasn't being Bruce Wayne's newest pet project, or a high rank job at Wayne Enterprices. The _usurper_ had dared to put on a dead child's uniform barely a year after his death, and take his place by his father's side.

And father had allowed it.

Damian looked down at Jason, still fast asleep in the middle of the nest, face buried against Damian's shirt. 

He picked his phone, and dealed his mother's number.

**Author's Note:**

> 'Nour Hayati' is what my sister's girlfriend of arabic ancestry told means 'light of my life'. then again, she's been stranged from her family for years, so if any of you find it wrong, feel free to tell me!
> 
> Also, a gold star for anyone who guesses who's the woman Damian's talking about.
> 
> Also, poor Timmy.


End file.
